


Healing

by Vozana666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, After Hogwarts, Drarry, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, OC, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/pseuds/Vozana666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter couldn't handle being an Auror after the wizarding war, so he decided to become a counsellor. </p><p>Draco Malfoy couldn't handle all the negative attention he received after the wizarding war, and decided to turn his life around and people's opinions of him around by becoming a healer. </p><p>A little girl named Esther is living in an orphanage. Shy and has nightmares that never seem to stop. </p><p>Can both Harry and Draco help her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry

Healing

 

Chapter one

 

 

 

**Harry knocked on** the front door. He heard the playful screaming of children coming from the back of the building. He flattened down the suit he was wearing, and pulled at the sleeves. He hated doing home visits. But, technically, was it really considered a home? He sure majority of the people living in the building wouldn’t consider it as such.

 

Harry had never really believed that something such as an orphanage could be considered a home. But, what did he know? He’d never lived in one. Though; sometimes he would have preferred it.

 

After the wizarding war of 1998, Harry had strayed away from his old dream of becoming an Auror. Something about the war changed his views on wanting to capture bad wizards. It’s not that he didn’t want to bring a certain sense of justice; he did. It’s just that he was tired of saving the world. He was tired of chasing bad wizard after bad wizard, and crumbling when he failed to do so.

 

But he didn’t want to stray from helping people. He just wanted to do it in a less violent light.

 

That’s why he had decided to become a therapist.

 

The door opened in front of him, Harry moved forward slightly and held out his hand, “hello,” he said with an awkward smile as the woman shook his hand politely, “my names Harry, I believe you asked for a therapist for a young girl named...” he looked at the sheet of paper in front of him.

 

“Esther,” the woman said with a polite smile, “yes, we asked for one last week. Please; come in.”

 

The woman opened the door wider, letting Harry step inside. Harry looked around; the orphanage was more depressing that Grimauld Place, and that was saying something for sure. A young boy about the age of three was attempting to walk up the stairs, but kept falling on his bottom as he lifted one leg up and onto the first stair. If the place wasn't so morbid, Harry may have laughed.

 

“I’ll show you the way to her room?”

 

Harry nodded. The woman began walking towards the steps, ignoring the three year old boy, causing him to cry. She continued to ignore him, so Harry turned around and picked the young boy up, carrying him up the stairs with him. The young boy pulled softly on Harry’s hair, and poked at Harry’s glasses. Harry took no notice as they walked up to the third floor of the building.

 

“So, what is your name?” Harry asked the young boy nicely, the young boy shook his head.

 

“He’s mute,” the woman in front of him climbing up the stairs at an abnormally slow pace muttered, “the only thing he can do is cry.”

 

“That’s not exactly mute then,” Harry said. The woman turned around and glared at him, as if to say, ‘how dare you try to prove me wrong,’ Harry swallowed harshly before continuing on, “well...it’s technically selective mutism. It’s an anxiety disorder...he probably only cries when he’s desperate.”

 

The woman ignored him as they made their way through the hall of the third floor. She turned left suddenly and knocked on the door in front of her. Like all the rest of the doors, it was white and old looking; except, it had a small sticker on the door handle with the letter ‘E’ on it.

 

“Esther! Open this door immediately!”

 

Harry couldn't help but flinch at the harshness in the woman’s tone. Every minute that passed, she began to remind Harry of Marge, his Uncle’s sister.

 

There was a small creak as the door opened, revealing a small girl, who couldn't have been older than eleven years old, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Her hair was messed up and she was wearing her pyjamas. Harry couldn't help but feel bad for being the reason Esther had to wake up from her sleep.

 

“This is Harry; you’re counsellor.”

 

“I didn't want a counsellor,” Esther said, sending a tired glare at the woman in front of her, she turned to Harry and her eyes softened, “sorry, I don’t want a counsellor.”

 

Harry smiled softly, “honestly, I wouldn't want a counsellor either. How about we just sit and talk for a bit instead?”

 

Esther looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding her head, “would you like to join me and my teddy’s tea party?”

 

Harry nodded enthusiastically, handing the little three year old boy back to the woman who had led him to Esther's room. The boy bounced happily in the woman's arms, but she looked anything but pleased, “I would love to! What’s your teddy’s name?”

 

Esther giggled, “it’s teddy,” she grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him into her room. The room was small and only just fit the young girls bed, small table, and two small chairs. One had a teddy bear slumped on it, missing an eye and had some thread coming out of its stitches. The other was empty. Esther ran over and plunked herself down on it, grabbing the tiny blue tea pot in front of her and two little cups and saucers.

 

“You’ll have to sit on the bed,” Esther said, pouring a cup of pretend tea and handing it to Harry as he sat down where he was told to, “I don’t really like tea, so you and teddy can have it instead.”

 

Harry took a pretend sip of the tea, making the little girl smile warmly at him, not hesitantly like she had before.

 

_It’s progress_ , Harry thought to himself, _but how do I get her to talk?_


	2. Draco.

Healing

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 **Draco walked down** the hall of the spell damage ward of St Mungo’s carrying a clipboard and looking annoyed. He walked into one of the rooms without knocking and slammed the door shut behind him, causing the patient in the bed to jump from shock.

 

Draco wasn't exactly feeling empathetic today. This man had come into St Mungo’s five times already for the same goddamn thing; because he was thought it was smart to try out unpractised spells on his genitalia to get himself off. 

 

“Seriously, if it’s the same thing again Wilfred, I'm cutting it off,” Draco growled, shoving his clipboard on the night stand and lifting up Wilfred’s hospital gown, who looked all shades of guilty.

 

“What did you try this time?”

 

“Some spell a mate gave me,” Wilfred said, looking at anything but Draco, “nothin’ dangerous.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “one day you’re going to encounter a spell that will truly damage you. It may even kill you.”

 

“Then I’ll be off of your hands!”

 

Draco sighed deeply and counted to ten before pointing his wand at the door. Two seconds later, a nurse by the name of Vanity opened the door, holding a bottle of healing salve.

 

“You ordered this Healer Malfoy?” she asked in a quiet voice, sounding as if she was afraid of Draco.

 

Draco nodded, taking the bottle and pushing it into Wilfred’s hands, startling the man again; he seemed to keep going off into a dreamy state. Draco assumed this was some effect of the spell.

 

“You can put it on yourself this time,” Draco said, picking up his clipboard from the side table and grabbing a quill, quickly writing down; _boils and bruised genitalia_ next to Wilfred’s name, “I can see your hands aren't quite as burned as last time.”

 

Draco swore he heard Wilfred snicker behind him as he walked out of the room, the young nurse Vanity trailing behind him, he closed and locked Wilfred’s door behind him, hoping to not have to deal with the idiotic old man for the rest of the evening.

 

“The man really needs to get a life,” Draco said to himself mostly, walking back towards his office.

 

Vanity nodded nervously beside him, “is there anything else I need to get you sir?”

 

Draco paused and looked down at Vanity, “no,” he said with a soft smile, “sorry, I'm not exactly in the best of moods; besides, you’re not my slave.”

 

She nodded slowly, “I wanted to ask you something...”

 

Draco frowned, “go on...”

 

Vanity chewed on her bottom lip, Draco almost grabbed her lip from underneath her teeth to stop her from puncturing them and causing them to bleed all over the newly cleaned hospital floor. But he waited.

 

“I was wondering whether you wanted to go out for drinks sometime,” Vanity asked, “Just the two of us.”

 

“Oh,” Draco stammered, while still looking at Vanity, he grabbed the ring that Pansy had given him a few years ago, actually, it was a graduation present, off of his right index finger, and put it onto his wedding finger, “sorry,” he said finally, holding up his left hand, “married. I don’t think my partner would like that.”

 

“Um... _partner_?”

 

Draco nodded with a hiss, “uh, yeah.”

 

“So either way I wouldn't have stood a chance,” Vanity said with a small laugh.

 

Draco joined in, only out of politeness. He was too awkward to find these situations at all amusing, “not really. No offence, you’re a beautiful girl,” he said hastily, “but I fly for the other team.”

 

Vanity gave him a warm smile, “understood,” she held out her hand to shake, and so Draco did. Everything was back to a professional manner, Draco let out a sigh of relief, “nice talking to you Healer Malfoy.”

 

“It was nice talking to you too, Vanity.”

 

Draco watched as Vanity walked back down the hall, towards Wilfred’s room and away from Draco’s office. He sighed again before quickly unlocking the door with a spell and ducking inside the room. He quickly moved Pansy’s graduation present off of his wedding ring back onto his index finger, and laughed about the amount of times Pansy’s graduation present had saved his arse.


	3. Esther

Healing

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 **Esther had been** seven when her parents had gone out to the movies. She had been left with her baby sitter, Bethany, who also happened to be her cousin. The night had been fun; they’d had a movie marathon of their own; watching all of her favourite Disney movies and some Pixar movies before she had been sent to bed, all because she had fallen asleep on the couch, in the middle of watching Cinderella.

 

She had been woken up in the middle of the night, however, by her cousin, who had been crying heavily. She could see her cousins make-up running down her face, tear drops clinging to the teenager’s nose.

 

She brought Esther down the stairs, almost crushing her hand in her iron grip. Two police officers stood in the entrance hall, looking sorrowful.

 

It was at that moment, which she was told her parents, had been in a fatal accident. They’d been on a highway when a drunk driver slammed into their car. They had both died instantly and without pain.

 

They didn't tell Esther any more about the details; they put their hats back on and left the house. The house seemed quieter than it had before, even though her parents hadn't been around for the last few hours. It was a permanent silence now.

 

Esther didn't cry, she was too shocked; she kept staring at the floor below her, moving her toes every so often, but not making a sound.

 

Her cousin grabbed her hand again, “come on,” she said, moving Esther towards her and picking her up. Normally Esther would argue at being picked up; she was a big girl, she didn't need to be picked up. But this time, as her cousin carried her silent form up the steps, she didn't complain once.

 

She was tucked into bed and given her teddy bear, and yet she did not make a sound. Her cousin kissed her lightly on the forehead, and told her to get some sleep and that she loved her. She didn't say everything was going to be fine, something that Esther was grateful for, because it would have been a lie.

 

The next morning, relatives kept turning up, hugging her cousin and crying with her. Esther stayed up the stairs, half heartedly playing with her dolls as uncles and aunts and cousins all came and told her how sorry they were. Some lied and told her that everything was going to be fine, but no matter how many lies they told, she didn't say a word. She barely looked at them; she just continued to make her dolls jump around carelessly.

 

It was a few weeks later that a woman named Karen Mulligan knocked on their door. Her cousin Bethany had stayed for the last few days, making sure that Esther was okay. She didn't want to leave Esther alone to herself, but she also didn't want to pass her on to another relative. So she had stayed in Esther’s house, sleeping in one of the guest rooms.

 

Karen talked to Bethany about how she worked for Child Protection Services that settled themselves across all of England. How Bethany was too young to be responsible for Esther for the amount of time she had been recently, and that it was time to hand her over an orphanage. Bethany was adamant, requesting that maybe her parents or another set of relatives could fight for custody of Esther.

 

But no matter how much she said, it was a no. Karen brought up Esther’s parents’ Will. Stating that, on the Will, it was suggested that if anything ever happened to either parents, she was to be sent to the orphanage of their choice. She was to not be sent over to any relatives. Esther knew why; they didn't trust her Aunts or Uncles. They were all supposedly ‘gold diggers.’

 

Bethany helped Esther pack her things into boxes that weekend, telling her about the orphanage and how wonderful it was and how much fun she was going to have with all the other children. How it was basically like school, but you lived there. She never mentioned anything about the possibility of being adopted.

  
When Esther arrived only two weeks later, she was invited inside the building by an old woman with a freckled nose that pointed out. Like a witches nose. Her name was Meredith Lithgow. She led Esther up to the third floor and opened a door; Bethany was behind her, surveying the room with a look of disgust. It was small; the walls were dark green, the colour of mould.

 

Esther turned around, giving Bethany a desperate look. She spoke for the first time in weeks since her parents’ deaths, “I don’t want to live here!” she exclaimed, “Please Bethany, I’ll behave! I’ll do everything you tell me to! I promise!”

 

Bethany shook her head softly, “I'm not allowed to keep you Esther...”

 

“What about Au-.”

 

“It’s been requested that I don’t hand you over to anyone else, that you be sent here.”

 

Bethany’s eyes looked moist as she bent down and hugged Esther tightly, “I’ll come and visit. I promise.”

 

Esther shook her head, crying silently, “Please don’t leave...”

 

Eventually, of course, Bethany was forced to. She turned back towards the front door of the building, seeing Esther and Miss Lithgow. She waved back to her younger cousin, tears running down her face, as she got into the taxi that she had told to wait for her.

 

Esther watched Bethany disappear, holding her teddy bear in her right hand.

 

She looked back up at Miss Lithgow, who was frowning down at her.

 

“Most of that horrible stuff that you brought here will be put in the garage,” Miss Lithgow said, “Please pick three items you want in your room, other than the necessary bed and wardrobe; I will get some of the older children to bring them up for you.”

 

Esther pouted, “but-.”

 

“Do it, now!”

 

Miss Lithgow turned around and went back up the stairs, Esther assumed to go and torment some other children. She looked out the front, where the boxes of her stuff sat. She had just dropped her gaze onto her small table and chair set that her parents had bought her for tea parties with her stuffed toys, as it slowly began to rain.


	4. Overconfident Therapist

Healing

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 **Harry threw himself** onto the couch with a sigh, placing his keys in the bowl beside him and closing his eyes. He was tired. He hadn't slept properly in ages. He just couldn't bring himself to.

 

This Esther case was driving him insane, if he was to be honest with himself. Esther didn’t talk. Whenever Harry even tried to mention her parents, a fake cup of tea was forced into his hands and he was told to drink it, for her amusement; and if he didn’t he would have to leave. Because what was the point of coming in for a cup of tea, if you weren’t going to drink any ‘tea.’

 

Hermione must have heard him slam the door, hell; the whole apartment building must have heard it. She came and sat down next to Harry.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“Just, stuff.”

 

He heard Hermione sigh, “Must I really play this stupid guessing game with you?”

 

“No,” Harry said, “you could just find the need to not know.”

 

“We both know that isn’t going to happen,” Hermione pushed her back towards the other end of the couch and crossed her legs. Harry opened his eyes and looked at her, shaking his head fondly, “you’re not going to let this go, are you.”

 

Hermione shook her head, “so, what is it? Secret boyfriend you never told me about dumped you? You dumped him? Is it-?”

 

“You know I’m not dating at the moment Hermione,” Harry said, “I would have told you.”

 

“Is it work?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“What little kid isn’t talking to you?”

 

Harry had to admit, Hermione was quick to deduce the problem.

 

“There’s this little girl called Esther,” Harry began, “she’s nine years old, though she looks like she's about eleven. Maybe it's the overgrown clothing she's forced to wear - she’s been living in an orphanage- a really shitty orphanage- for the last two years. Her parents died in a car accident and apparently she’s been acting really odd lately.”

 

“What type of odd are we talking about here?”

 

“She’s reclusive,” Harry said, “she doesn't really like to play with the other children, and she scares the people who work at the orphanage.”

 

“Why?”

 

Harry shook his head, taking his glasses off and placing them on his lap before pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’ve got a headache.”

 

“Why are the people working in the orphanage afraid of her?” Hermione asked. 

 

“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, “That’s what I’ve been trying to ask her about and she just, shuts off. The blinds come down,” Harry paused, “maybe she’s a psychopath!”

 

“It worries me that you sound excited about that,” Hermione muttered.

 

“It’s answers!” Harry put his glasses back on and stood up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“My room,” Harry said, “I need to read up on the differences between sociopaths and psychopaths again.”

 

“What about your headache?”

 

“I lied,” Harry said, walking down the hall towards his room, “it was just me trying to get you to leave me alone.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea and wondering when her friend had become so...insane.

 

 

(***)

 

 

“I can’t believe I have to pack everything like a muggle would,” Draco said, “just for appearances sake!”

 

“You’re still a muggle hater Draco?” Blaise asked, throwing some pillows of Draco’s in a box and then taping it up, “I thought we were all past that.”

 

“I’m not a muggle hater Blaise!” Draco exclaimed, tapping up another box full of his clothing and heaving a sigh of relief when the box was finally sealed, “it’s just this is really freaking hard; I’m beginning to admire muggles.”

 

“That’s a bit too far,” Pansy said with a smirk, “maybe living here has made you ill.”

 

“If I work much harder I might get ill.”

 

“You work as a healer, you can’t say that. People might lose their confidence in your abilities.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, heaving the heavy box of clothing, shoes and a bunch of books onto another box full of books.

 

“There’s an alleyway; on the side of this building,” Draco said, shrinking down the couches and putting them in his pocket, “I could take the boxes down there and shrink them before apparating to my new address.”

 

“What’s the point of packing these boxes if you just shrunk the couches?” Pansy asked, looking sceptical.

 

“I’m moving out,” Draco said, “wouldn’t it look suspicious if I walk out of the apartment holding absolutely nothing?” Draco walked back into his bedroom, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table and walking back into what used to be the living room area, “besides, with the boxes it actually helps keep everything in order.”

 

“Yeah Pans, maybe you should try it sometime,” Blaise said with a smirk, getting a light smack on the shoulder from Pansy, who glared at the two of them playfully.

 

 

(***)

 

 

“So; are you going to tell me today why the people who work here are afraid of you?”

 

Harry was sitting on Esther’s bed again. He had refused the pretend cup of tea he had been handed, and warned Esther it was time to take these sessions seriously. The girl hadn’t threatened to push him out of her room this time; she had sat down next to her teddy bear and began drinking her pretend tea, looking at Harry, waiting for him to say something more.

 

She shook her head at his question, “sometimes when I get angry things smash.”

 

 _Surely not_ , Harry thought to himself.

 

Harry frowned, “what do you mean?”

 

“Things smash around me,” she said, putting her cup down and picking up teddy and hugging him tightly to her. _An obvious sign of distress_ , Harry thought to himself, _I’ve got to get her to calm down_.

 

“Is it just when you’re angry?” Harry asked.

 

Esther nodded.

 

“Why would you get angry?”

 

Esther shrugged, “some of the other kids come in here and steal my things, and then I remember some of the ladies refusing to give me some of my stuff from in the storage garage, and then the kids laugh at me and call me names...”

 

Harry frowned, “have you told anyone this?”

 

She shook her head, “no. I would get in trouble for dibber-dobbing.”

 

There was a knock on the door and Harry looked up. It opened without either of them saying that the person could come in. Ms Lithgow stood in the doorway, looking displeased.

 

“You were supposed to leave an hour ago,” Ms Lithgow said to Harry, “you have no business here after hours.”

 

Esther was looking down at the top of the table, looking nervous hugging her teddy bear tighter than ever. Harry stood up, “mind if I talk to you for a moment?”

 

Ms Lithgow showed no indication of saying yes, other than walking slightly out of the door and into the hall, holding it open for Harry. Harry walked towards the top of the stairs, and Ms Lithgow followed.

 

“I’m only just making some progress with Esther,” Harry said slowly, “she’s beginning to talk about why she’s so reclusive.”

 

“You’ve had plenty of time to talk about that,” Ms Lithgow said stubbornly, “what else do you do in there to pass the time?”

 

“For the last week I’ve been trying to get her to talk to me,” Harry said, trying to remain calm, “only today has she actually talked about something that isn’t tea parties and teddy bears. I think what would be best is-.”

 

“I think what would be best is if you leave because it is past our visiting hours,” Ms Lithgow cut Harry off.

 

Harry was starting to get annoyed, “Ms Lithgow, please understand-.”

 

There was a wail from down stairs, Harry looked down and there was the little mute boy again, trying desperately to get up the stairs.

 

“You realise what you’re doing to majority of these children is abusive,” Harry stated darkly, “you’ve ignored Esther’s needs for the two years she’s been here, until now, you’ve ignored this little boys obvious needs for some form of medical attention, and don’t even get me started with the sense of utter neglect in this place.”

 

“Are you finished Mr Potter?”

 

“Oh no, I have a hell of a lot more to complain about.”

 

Ms Lithgow smirked, “I expect to see you back here tomorrow, Mr Potter, but for now our visiting hours for _everyone_ , including _overconfident therapists_ are _over_.”

 

Harry wanted to hex this woman, but he knew that deep down, it wouldn’t do anyone any good. He glared at the woman, one more time before walking down the stairs. As he made his way down, the little mute boy grabbed onto his leg, pulling softly and whimpering.

 

It tore at Harry’s heart to have to leave the little boy behind with this woman, and Esther as well. But he couldn’t think of anything else he could do to help. He bent down, and slowly rubbed the little boys hands, making him let go. He smiled softly before getting up, turning around and leaving.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry walked up the stairs of the apartment building, seeing as the elevators were under maintenance. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, when he suddenly bumped into someone.

 

“Sorry-,” Harry began saying, but he was cut off. He looked at the person he had bumped into, who was looking just as shocked as he was. The blonde’s eyes were wide and confused, before they both exclaimed;

 

“Potter!?!”

 

“Malfoy!?!”

 

\--

 

Hey guys!

 

So, sorry that this wasn't uploaded sooner, I just finished writing it to be honest.

 

So, I have a writer’s page. On Facebook.

 

[www.facebook.com/vozanaprincess666](http://www.facebook.com/vozanaprincess666)

 

I try to keep people as updated on my fanfics as I possibly can. So please go like if you want constant updates and if you want to see what other stories I’m writing on other websites.

 

Please review/comment, whatever, and give this story a kudos! :D thank you!

 

-          Teagan/Isaac.


	5. Nightmares

Healing

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 **Harry leaned against** the door, inside the apartment, trying to stop his heart beating rapidly.

 

What were the chances of him finally getting his life together, and finally moving away from the wizarding world, just so he could have some privacy in his life, only to have Draco Malfoy pop up and be his new neighbour?

 

Very slim, and he doubted it would have happened to anyone else.

 

He’d worked really hard to avoid wizards. Not that there were many that popped up around Muggle London, but you had the occasional one, here and there, mainly Muggleborns and Half Bloods. But now, a Pureblood was here, and said Pureblood was the one Harry loathed the most.

 

He didn’t really hate Draco Malfoy. He’d gotten over it. But it still wasn’t warm and bubbly feelings of happiness that he was feeling right now after spotting the blonde again after having avoided him for a few years.

 

He heard a door open in the hallway and looked up to see Hermione walking down it, towards the living-room. She was holding a bunch of papers, reading them and slowly moving her lips as she did so. She stopped suddenly, and looked up, as if sensing someone else was around. She looked at Harry straight away, first with surprise, but soon her face showed a look of worry.

 

“Harry?” Hermione asked, throwing the bunch of stapled papers on the couch and walking towards him, “Are you okay?”

 

Harry nodded slowly, despite the fact that he was lying. Hermione seemed to notice that as well.

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Hermione said, coming to stand right in front of him now, feeling his forehead like a concerned mother would. That was just Hermione, she had always mothered Harry in a sense, once they’d gotten an apartment together.

 

“I promise, I’m fine,” Harry said.

 

“Did something happen to a client?”

 

-Sometime last year, Harry had had a patient named Brad. He had been in his late thirties-early forties, and he was an alcoholic, which was not only ruining the family’s finances, but the family itself. He would go to the pub down the road from his house, between five in the afternoon- when it opened and ten at night- when it closed.

 

No matter how many times he tried quitting, he would end up back on the grog just when it seemed like he’d pulled through.

 

He’d spoken to Harry for months, about his alcoholism and his depression. Harry had tried to help him, every which way he could. But nothing seemed to get through to the man.

 

One afternoon, when Brad was supposed to come for an appointment, he didn’t show up. Harry knew the man was always late for work, or late coming home from the pub, but one thing Harry couldn’t fault him for was being late for his appointments. No matter what happened, Brad would always be there, from one o'clock until three.

 

He called Brad’s wife, Alison, and asked where her husband would most likely be, she said she had no idea. She said he could possibly be at another pub one that opens earlier than the one down the road from their house. Harry said that that must be it, despite knowing that Brad would never go to another pub; the man was afraid of change.

 

Harry waited and waited, but by three o'clock, he still hadn’t shown up.

 

Two hours and thirty minutes later, Harry got a phone call from a distraught Alison, who said that their eldest daughter had found Brad’s body hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen, after she and two of her friends had come back to their house after dance practice.

 

For the next two months, Alison came to Harry, to talk about what had happened on what seemed like a perfectly ordinary winter evening. She said she had sense something was wrong, but just assumed it was the ordinary feeling of wrongness when it come to knowing your husband was depressed and an alcoholic and that your daughter was sleeping around with a few boys. Harry had nodded and listened, and occasionally told her that it wasn’t her fault, because there was no way she could have possibly known about what Brad was about to do, and what he had done.

 

Eventually, the appointments became less about Alison and more about Brad. She asked about what Brad had done, what he had talked about during their sessions. Harry told her repeatedly that it was confident information, and despite the person being deceased, he wasn’t obligated to tell her, for he could lose his job.

 

Alison said she understood and every time after she asked about Brad’s records, she would go back onto the conversation of nightmares, of seeing Brad’s body being put in the body bag, about the funeral, about how their youngest son, Derek, had never cried. But now, he was an emotional wreck.

 

That year, for Christmas, Harry broke into the place where he worked and went through his filing cabinet. He duplicated the files on Brad’s case, and sent them off to Alison’s new house, which she had moved into a month after Brad’s death. Instead of living near a pub, the family now lived near a library, which Derek loved going to. He was a book worm.

 

A week later, Harry found an envelope on his desk. He opened it and it revealed a beautiful Christmas card. Inside it said,

 

_Dear Harry,_

_Thank you for sending me the files. It means a lot to me, and my family, despite the fact that I refuse to let them read the files. This is one of the best Christmas gifts I could ever have imagined; a better understanding of my husband. I know that by sending me these files, you were risking losing your job, so thank you so much._

_Forever grateful,_

_Alison + the Family_

Harry had smiled and chucked the card in his suitcase, feeling like he’d undoubtedly done a good thing.-

 

Harry shook his head, “no,” Harry muttered, “My current client is happier than majority of the clients I’ve ever worked with. She’s still depressed, but less so than the others.”

 

Hermione nodded slowly.

 

Harry stepped away from the door, trying to put a convincing smile on his face before sitting down on the couch and grabbing the papers Hermione had thrown, he went to read them but Hermione instantly snatched them out of his hands, “don’t read my stuff,” Hermione muttered, placing the papers under her arm and crossing her arms over her chest, “so, what’s happened?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “also, I think Esther is a witch.”

 

Hermione nodded slowly, “interesting...but stop trying to avoid the conversation. Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

 

Harry sighed, pulling a lose thread on the second hand couch he and Hermione had bought before moving in together, “Draco Malfoy just moved in next door.”

 

~*~

 

Draco silently cursed under his breath as he began taking the small boxes and placing them on the ground to be turned to their original state, ready to be unpacked.

 

He couldn’t believe it.

 

Of all people

 

Harry freaking Potter

 

Draco pulled out the miniature bed and placed it in his room. It instantly blew back up to it’s original size. The room was bigger than his old one, which was something to be happy about at least, but he was still peeved.

 

He thought he was done with Potter.

 

He didn’t hate the man, not at all. But every time he saw his goddamn face in the Daily Prophet as people wondered what he was doing now, and every time he saw it in a stupid text book, just whenever he saw the man’s face, rage began to burn inside him.

 

He sat down on the couch that he had recently returned to its original size, earlier on, and turned one of the boxes back. He began unpacking it. It was full of all of his books and his bookshelf.

 

 _I’m not really in the mood to unpack right now_ , Draco thought to himself.

 

He kicked the box away with the bottom of his foot, before standing up and heading to bed. He could sort everything out tomorrow.

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

Harry walked up the stairs, to Esther’s room, but crying and screaming caught him off guard and made him change his direction.

 

He walked hurriedly to a room towards the end of the far hall, the carpet muting his footsteps as he made his way there. He opened the bedroom door, and there sat in the middle of the room the little mute boy.

 

Harry rushed over and picked the boy up, who instantly became quiet once more, before making his way towards Esther’s room again.

 

He went to knock on the bedroom door, but it opened all by itself, creaking open disturbingly slow. Harry pushed the door open completely and choked on the words he was going to say, when he completely observed what was in front of him.

 

Esther, hanging limply from the ceiling

 

That was when Harry woke up, sitting upright and sputtering as if someone had poured a cold bucket of water on him. He tried to breathe, but found it difficult. He lay back down on the bed, trying to relax, not noticing his face becoming progressively wetter as the minutes passed.

 

 

\--

 

I am really sorry I haven’t updated for a while. School sucks at the moment.

 

Also, I’ve been trying to clean my room and do things to it and admining pages and yeah, boring stuff.

 

Anyways; leave a kudos, a comment and maybe go like my page [www.facebook.com/vozanaprincess666](http://www.facebook.com/vozanaprincess666)

 

Or my other page; [www.facebook.com/HarryFreakingSnape](http://www.facebook.com/HarryFreakingSnape) \- I’m trying to reach 6,000 likes by December 9th, which is my birthday.

 

To make up for the general shortness of this chapter, and the time between updating, as soon as I finish writing and posting this, I’m going to start on the next chapter, and post it as soon as I’m done.

 

-          Isaac.

 


	6. Illness and Clean Glasses

Healing

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 **The nightmare Harry** had had, had definitely had its desired effect. As he walked up the stairs of the orphanage, he couldn’t help but wonder if a dead Esther is what he would find. But he continued to push himself up the steps, one step at a time, trying to convince himself that the young girl was perfectly fine and healthy, playing tea party with her teddy bear and giggling at her own jokes.

 

Harry got to Esther’s door on the third floor and took a deep breath, before knocking three times.

 

“Come in.”

 

Harry scrunched up his face in confusion. The voice was all croaky and hoarse sounding. He opened the door slowly, and sighed when he saw Esther in bed, blowing her nose into a tissue.

 

“I’ve got a cold,” she said, stating the obvious as she threw the dirty tissue onto the bedside table in frustration, “Ms. Lithgow won’t let me out of bed to play with teddy, she keeps checking up on me every ten minutes.”

 

Harry smiled softly, “at least she’s attempting to take care of you.”

 

She made a sound of frustration, “well; I don’t like it.”

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

Draco took a sip of his coffee, breathing in the aroma, waking him up a little more. Last night had been a long night. He may have gone to bed early; hell, he hadn’t even finished packing. But that didn’t mean he had gone to sleep instantly.

 

He had finally fallen asleep at around three in the morning, in one of the most uncomfortable positions he could possibly imagine. When he had woken up, he’d fallen out of bed.

 

He rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee, as a man who worked in the maternity ward and every so often, Draco's ward came through, holding his own empty coffee cup and talking to a floating piece of parchment and a Quill.

 

“Boils all over the face, seven exploded, one exploded just by poking it, another- Oh, hello Malfoy.”

 

The man looked at the parchment and growled as the report he’d been writing up now said, ‘oh, hello Malfoy.’

 

“They’re great those things,” Draco said, smirking, “but you really have to be careful what you say.”

 

The man rolled his eyes, “shouldn't you be checking up on your mate who keeps getting boils on his genitals?”

 

“He got out yesterday,” Draco said, “why? Did you want to give him a going-away gift?” he mimicked a blow job, smirking all the while as he did so.

 

The man sighed, “I said to Martha you shouldn't have been hired. You wouldn’t take the job seriously.”

 

Draco pushed himself off of the bench he was leaning on and picked up his coffee, holding it firmly in his grip, not using the handle, “I take my job very seriously,” he said, “it’s just that when immature people like you come in, I feel like I should stoop to your level so you can process some form of intelligent conversation.”

 

The man glared, walking up to the sink and slamming his mug down into it, the mug smashing into a mixture of big and small ceramic pieces. The man growled in frustration before leaving the room, not even bothering to fix the mug and cursing under his breath.

 

“Bye Anderson!” Draco said, giving a mock cheery smile and wave behind the older man’s back before going back to leaning on the bench and drinking his coffee once more.

 

 

~*~

 

“I have a really big headache,” Esther complained, holding the side of her head with one, tiny hand, “can you ask Ms Lithgow for a glass of water?”

 

Harry couldn't get over how weak she sounded. She normally had a strong, confident voice; even for a squeaky nine year old. But now it was croaky, hoarse, weak, and barely even held any of that confidence that only a nine year old could have.

 

Harry smiled, “of course.”

 

Harry got up, off the end of Esther’s bed and left the room going down the stairs and towards the kitchens, which he had been taken to the other day by a little boy who had wanted an apple. Though, he hadn't been allowed in last time.

 

He knocked, and a gravelly voice called for him to come in, so he turned the door handle and he walked in to a pale room, the floors covered in dirt and looked liked they hadn’t been mopped for days, maybe even weeks.

 

He scrunched up his nose and continued to walk forwards, until he found a couple of ladies talking and smoking cigarettes together. They were using an old, chipped coffee mug as an ashtray.

 

“Um,” Harry cleared his throat, getting the two ladies attention. They glared at him like he was some disobedient child who was tracking mud on the carpet. Not that it would matter if he did track mud on the floor; you wouldn't even notice the difference with all the dirt and grime that was already there.

 

“Yes?” one of them asked impatiently, flicking the ash off of her cigarette and into the mug.

 

“I need a glass of water.”

 

She smirked and handed him the mug, “use this.”

 

“I’ll pass.”

 

“Then you’ll have to find the glasses yourself,” the other woman said, who appeared to be the other woman’s twin sister, “we’re on our lunch break.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and looked around the room. He noticed a small cabinet filled with intricate little glasses. He walked towards it, but heard a noise of protest before he could even open the door.

 

“What?” he asked frustrated.

 

“That’s for the meals with the orphanage owners,” the woman said, before having a rather nasty coughing fit. Her sister had to continue on for her, “They’re not for visitors, or any of the children here,” she said darkly.

 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, opened the door and grabbed a small little glass with sequins on the side, “you won’t help me find the glasses, so I’ll take the good ones.”

 

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes at her sister, who was still trying to catch her breath after her coughing fit, “fine; there’s some water in the fridge.”

 

Harry turned to look where the woman was pointing and sighed, the fridge was small and look like it hadn’t be cleaned of whatever was growing on it. He shook his head, “its fine,” he said, “I’ll find water somewhere else.”

 

Harry walked out of the kitchen, the two women snickering into their hands behind him. He turned into an empty hall, and flicked his wrist softly, his wand coming out of its holster. He caught it in his hand and pointed it at the cup.

 

He scorgified it quickly, definitely making sure the cup was clean, before making clear, cold water appear in the glass. He smiled, put the wand back in his holster, and made his way back upstairs to Esther’s room.

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

Harry apparated right outside of the apartment and put the keys in the lock. He paused as he heard voices in the apartment, and sincerely hoped that Hermione hadn’t brought someone over. But her voice sounded serious, so he turned the key and walked inside.

 

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the lounge, facing Hermione, with a cup of tea in his hands.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione looked up at him and smiled softly, “I invited Draco over.”

 

“Draco?” Harry asked, “already on first name basis.”

 

“This isn’t like school _Harry_ ,” Draco said, putting emphasis on the other man’s name, “you’d think you’d be over the petty disagreements we used to have.”

 

“I am,” Harry said hurriedly, “I’m just a little shocked that you’re in _my_ apartment.”

 

“Apparently it’s Hermione’s apartment too,” Draco said with a smirk, he looked towards Hermione with a quizzical expression, “Really? I thought you and Weaselbee would surely get together.”

 

Hermione spluttered, but Harry laughed, “Hermione and I aren't _together_ ,” Harry said, “We’re just room-mates.”

 

“That’s what they all say,” Draco said, raising his hands above his head and stretching. His shirt rode up a bit, and Harry couldn’t stop his eyes as they moved down to the patch of slightly visible, pale skin, “anyway,” Draco said, getting up, leaving his now empty tea cup on the small table beside the lounge, “it’s been a busy day for me, didn’t get much sleep last night either,” Hermione nodded, having recomposed herself once more, “I’m going to go to bed.”

 

Draco walked towards the apartment door, “if you need anything,” he said slowly, looking between Hermione and Harry, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

 

Harry looked bemused at the other man, as he walked out of the apartment and next door into his in less than ten seconds, “he’s become friendly.”

 

Hermione nodded, “yes, he’s actually a-.”

 

“You sure he isn’t up to something?”

 

Hermione groaned, putting her head into her hands, “Harry, no, don’t start this again- it isn’t like school any more!”

 

“Yes but-.”

 

“No.”

 

Harry watched as Hermione stood up, looking frustrated, “it’s not like our school days any more. Nobody is up to anything. There's nothing to me _up_ to. There war is over,” she said, “It’s just a coincidence.”

 

She began walking down the hallway, back to her study. She closed the door shut behind her, only opening it again ten seconds later to stick on a sign she had printed out a few months ago, saying ‘DO NOT DISTURB.’


	7. Cafe Dubois

Healing

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

There had always been this small French cafe near where Harry worked. It was a tiny building with a small apartment above, where an ex boyfriend of Harry’s lived. Harry went to the cafe, and occasionally talked to his ex, Brandon, who he was still on very good terms with. He got free coffee as well.

 

Harry was now sitting outside of the cafe at one of the small white tables, sitting across from Draco Malfoy.

 

“I’m guessing this was Hermione’s idea?” Draco asked, “Trying to get you and me to get along?”

 

Harry smiled, “actually, no, it was my idea,” he said, stirring his coffee in the tiny glass mug that read out _Cafe Dubois_ , “I realised I might have come across as quite a...-,” Harry paused, looking for the right word.

 

“Dick?”

 

Harry nodded, “dick. Yup; I realised I might have come across as quite a dick, yesterday.”

 

Draco smirked, “I’m used to it. I did go to school with you after all.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee while Draco looked around the street. Normally, it wasn’t crowded, but even today it seemed a little deserted. But, what else would one expect on a Monday morning?

 

“Nice little cafe here,” Draco said, taking a sip of his own coffee, “not bad,” he said, looking mildly impressed.

 

“One of the best cafes around this area,” Harry said, “it helps that it’s right across from where I work.”

 

“Also the fact that your ex boyfriend works here?” Draco asked, “Hermione told me,” he explained after seeing the look on Harry’s face, “is there a reason you took me to the cafe where your ex boyfriend works or was it just purely coincidental?”

 

“Coincidental,” Harry spluttered out, putting down his half empty coffee cup, “also because I’m due back to work in fifteen minutes.”

 

Draco nodded slowly, drinking his own coffee. Harry swore he saw a slight look of disappointment on the other man’s face. But he shook it off as nothing.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry walked up the steps again to Esther’s room. This case was lasting a long time. Arguably longer than majority of Harry’s cases, especially with young children. They didn’t put up such a big fight to keep things to themselves. Though, Harry could easily link Esther’s depression to her dead parents, and neglectful orphanage owners; but he felt as if there was something else there.

 

He knocked on the door, like what felt like a million times before, and entered when he was asked, politely, to come in. Unfortunately, when Harry walked in, Esther was still in bed, sick as ever. Looking extremely tired, there were shadows under her eyes, and she was beginning to look really thin.

 

“How much have you eaten recently?” Harry asked.

 

“Not much,” Esther said, “I can’t keep it down and the less I eat the less I throw up.”

 

Harry sighed, “You need to eat Esther, even if you do throw it up.”

 

Esther shook her head, “I hate throwing up.”

 

Harry wasn’t going to argue about the girl’s health. That wasn’t what he was here for, well, at least not the physical aspect of it. He brought out a little journal and handed it to Esther.

 

“I want you to start writing in this,” Harry said, giving her a pen as well, seeing as he couldn’t see one anywhere in the room, “because I can tell you're starting to lose your voice.”

 

Esther nodded slowly.

 

“I’m going to start moving our sessions to weekly sessions, not daily,” Harry said, “because there’s other work I need to do and I think you're getting better. At the end of every week, I'll come and visit you and read what you have written,” Harry waited for some sort of response, but got none, “understand?”

 

Esther nodded again, opening the journal and flicking through the empty lined pages.

 

“Thank you,” she said, giving Harry a small, sincere smile.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“So, you don't actually have a job?”

 

“Well, no; not really,” Hermione said. A friend of hers from the publishing company she was going through, Anna, had wanted Hermione to start dating, and had set her up on a blind date with a man named Micus. Hermione had attempted to talk her out of it, but when Anna thought of something, she went through with it until the very end. It was one of the best and worst things about her.

 

“So, what do you do all day?” Micus asked, taking a big gulp of wine. Hermione winced; she wasn’t a fan of wine, not at all. She was drinking a small glass of lemonade instead.

 

“I write,” Hermione said, “I plan on publishing through the company Anna works for.”

 

“Oh,” Micus said, “I was never a big reader when I was in high school,” he said, biting his lip, he then chuckled, “not really a big reader now. I just couldn’t stand books,” he rolled his eyes, “why read when you can watch the movie, right?”

 

Hermione shrugged, “well, sometimes they leave a lot of things out of the film adaption of a book,” Hermione said, “I like to have all of the facts, not some of the facts.”

 

“Right...” Micus frowned.

 

“Besides,” Hermione said, “sometimes with films they don't even go close to sticking with the storyline,” she shrugged, “there’s this book series about Greek Gods and they made the movies completely different from the original plotline. It feels like someone stole the titles and the names of the main characters and just changed the story all together; I’m surprised they haven't been sued.”

 

When Hermione finally looked up, she noticed Micus looking across the restaurant. Hermione followed his gaze, which landed upon a pretty blonde girl with a strappy dress on, talking with an older man, but occasionally turning and smiling at Micus.

 

“Who’s that?” Hermione asked, feeling insecure.

 

“Just a friend.”

 

“Named?”

 

Micus shrugged, “maybe I'll find out.”

 

Hermione sighed, from the beginning; Micus had seemed like a sweet guy. She was even going to ignore the fact that he didn’t like reading books all that much. But looking at another woman, who he didn’t even know, when they were supposed to be on a date? She wouldn’t take that.

 

“It was nice meeting you Micus,” Hermione said, standing up and grabbing her ruby red clutch, “tell the woman over there I said ‘hi.’”

 

“Where are you going?!” Micus asked, sounding alarmed as Hermione put some money on the table.

 

“Home,” she answered, closing the clutch purse and holding it down by her side, “you seem a lot more interested in that blonde woman over there, than you are in me,” she said, “I understand, she’s pretty, she has bigger breasts-.”

 

“That’s not-.”

 

She shook her head, looking down at Micus like he was a fly who'd had his wings ripped off, “I don't mind, really,” she said, “just don't lie to me about it,” she held out her hand, and Micus shook it with a bemused expression.

 

“What, no kiss on the cheek?”

 

“Maybe if the date had gone nicely,” Hermione said, “however this was more boring than a business meeting,” she began to walk away, only just hearing Micus say behind her, “how would you know, you don't have a job.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

When Hermione got home, Harry was asleep on the couch, looking absolutely exhausted. She smiled fondly down at his sleeping face, before pulling his askew glasses off and setting them on the coffee table.

 

“You're really the only man for me,” Hermione said, “I don’t need another one when I have you bugging me.”

 

She kissed him softly on the cheek before walking into the kitchen and getting a glass of water, taking off her strappy heels as she did so. She began walking down the hallway, glass of water in one hand and both shoes in the other, when the sound of Harry moving on the couch stopped her.

 

“If I’m the only man in your life,” Harry muttered, “you're not really living all that much Hermione.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “you were supposed to be asleep!”

 

Harry snickered, causing Hermione to throw a shoe at him, “hey!” he exclaimed, “besides, I purposely stayed awake just so I could hear you say something nice about me.”

 

“I say nice things to you all the time!”

 

“The last, _nicest_ thing you said to me was, ‘morning loser.’”

 

Hermione sighed, “Good night Harry.”

 

She began to walk down the hallway again.

 

“He’s the one missing out you know; not you.”

 

Hermione paused, her eyes burning slightly, “why’s that?”

 

“You're a good kisser,” Harry said laughing, “though I’ve only ever had kisses on the cheek, and that one time on New Year’s where you were so drunk and so desperate-.”

 

“Oh shut up Harry!” she stomped her way down the hall and into her room, smiling as she heard Harry’s laughter in the lounge room.

 

“What an idiot,” she muttered to herself, throwing her one heel towards the corner of the room and stripping out of her dress before putting her glass of water on the bedside table and getting into bed.

 

She fell asleep five minutes after her head hit the pillow.


	8. Malignant

Healing

 

Chapter eight

 

 

A/N: so, I just finished editing all the chapters and re-reading them, to get a better idea of what I was doing. Yay!

Anyway, I’m hoping this chapter will be interesting.

Enjoy!

 

 

\--

 

 **Esther wasn't getting** any better and Ms Lithgow was getting more and more frustrated about it.

 

“The last thing I need is to have all the children getting sick,” Ms Lithgow said, “I can barely take care of them when they’re healthy.”

 

“Then maybe you should hire more people,” Harry snapped. Ms Lithgow glared at him, but continued to talk, slowly.

 

“How about you take her to a hospital,” Ms Lithgow said through gritted teeth, “that way, you can stop nagging me about taking care of her.”

 

“Fine,” Harry said, “I will.”

 

 

~*~

 

 

Draco was walking back to his office, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and Vanity was standing there, smiling at him politely.

 

“Sir,” she started off saying, she paused for a moment, as if wondering what her next move was. Draco stood there, waiting, “there’s a man and a little girl in your office,” she said, “They want to see you as soon as possible about the little girl being ill.”

 

“What’s your point Vanity?” Draco asked sounding a little impatient. This wasn’t the first time he’d found a client already in his office, that’s how he’d first met Wilfred. Though, Wilfred hadn’t booked an appointment. He’d just broken in.

 

“Its Harry Potter sir,” she said, sounding a little excited, “the famous one-.”

 

“There is no other Harry Potter,” Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned around and opened the door, spotting Harry and the little girl instantly, “Vanity, I’m sure there are people you could be helping at the moment.”

 

Vanity nodded slowly, her smile falling, “of course...” she walked off down the hallway, leaving Draco to close the door and sit down in his spot.

 

“So, what’s wrong?” Draco asked.

 

Harry shrugged, “Esther hasn’t been well for a while and it’s just not going away. In fact, it’s getting worse.”

 

“What are the symptoms?”

 

“Well; nausea, vomiting, headaches and some minor flu symptoms.”

 

Draco wracked his brain, wondering what would normally trigger than in the muggle world.

 

“I’d suggest a MRI,” Draco muttered.

 

“What’s an MRI?” Esther asked, sounding nervous. She was sitting slightly slumped in her chair and leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. The shadows under her eyes were shiny, like she’d been sweating, or crying.

 

“It’s a scan that will identify what’s wrong with you,” Draco said softly, trying to make it sound less scary for Esther. Draco very rarely worked with children, so he often didn’t bother sugar coating things.

 

“Will it hurt?” she asked.

 

“Unlikely,” Draco said, “and it’ll only take a minute or two. We can do it now, if you’d like?”

 

Esther looked at Harry, who looked at her encouragingly. She nodded, the nervous look on her face going away. She looked determined.

 

Draco had her lay down on the floor, and then muttered a few words and his wand hovered over her body.

 

“You’re a wizard like Harry?” she asked.

 

Draco nodded, “this whole hospital is for wizard and witches.”

 

Draco had been previously told about Esther and how things exploded when she got angry. It was obvious she wasn’t a muggle. It made Draco wonder who her parents were.

 

The wand slowly floated up and down her body a few times, the only evidence that it was doing something other than floating back and forth, being the light coming out from the end of it.

 

After a few minutes, the clipboard and paper that Draco was holding began to fill itself with information. Draco began reading it to himself, feeling his heart drop the further down the page he read. He looked away from the clipboard and grabbed his wand, which stopped scanning automatically.

 

“Harry, can I have a moment?”

 

Harry nodded, looking concerned, before he followed Draco outside of his office. Esther stayed lying on the floor, making shadows form on the ceiling in the evening sun.

 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

 

“She has a malignant brain tumour,” Draco asked, not beating around the bush.

 

Harry paled, “chances of survival?”

 

Draco almost laughed aloud, but realised how that may have been taken insensitively. He straightened and pretended to read from the sheet again, as if something new would pop up. At least, that was what he was hoping. But it was all the same information from before, and none of it was positive.

 

“It’s large and will increase at a very fast rate,” Draco said, “I’m surprised she didn’t get sick sooner.”

 

“Is there anything you can do?” Harry asked, looking like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

 

“You can bring her here permanently for some form of treatment,” Draco said, “We’ll see what happens?”

 

Harry sighed, “Can you take care of her for half an hour?”

 

Draco’s eyes widened, “half an hour? Potter, my office is not a Day Care centre!”

 

“I need time to convince Lithgow, and she’s a stubborn old bitch,” Harry said, walking down the hall, “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

 

Draco sighed, turning back to walk into his office, “alright, don’t get yourself splinched Potter.”

 

Draco opened the door to his office and walked inside, cursing Harry and calling him all the bad names he could think of. He looked down at Esther on the ground, who was attempting to make a shadow rabbit.

 

“Here,” Draco said, lying down next to her and lifting his hands up in front of his face and making his hands into the shape. Esther looked at his hands, then up at the ceiling, smiling softly at the rabbit that was now sitting there, next to her shadow of jumbled up fingers.

 

“You’re good at this,” she said, making her jumbled up limb shadow jump like a rabbit would.

 

“I had plenty of practice,” Draco said with a smile, “we had these house elves-.”

 

“Wh-, Elves?!” She laughed, coughing a little bit as she did so, “they exist?!”

 

“Yup, they normally do chores. But there was this one house elf named Dobby who would always talk to me before I went to bed, because he was my friend, not just a slave.”

 

“That’s nice,” Esther said, attempting to copy Draco’s hand formation, she came close, but the eye didn’t look right.

 

They laid there for a while in a calm companionable silence; Esther attempting to make other various shadow animals and Draco helping her when she needed it.

 

“Mr Malfoy?”

 

“Feel free to call me Draco,” he said, “I don’t really like being called Mr Malfoy.”

 

Esther nodded, “Draco?”

 

“Yes Esther?”

 

“Am I going to die?”

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

Harry knocked softly on Draco’s office door, but got no response other than a giggle and a throaty chuckle. He opened the door slowly, and peeked inside. Draco and Esther were lying on their backs, making shadow animals on the ceiling.

 

There was a sparkle in Draco’s eye. He obviously had a soft spot for children, and a big playful side. He’d never really seen this side to Draco before. Majority of the time, he’d only seen the side of him that was a massive douche bag, or the few times lately that was really kind and just wanted to be supportive.

 

This was new.

 

It gave Harry a weird feeling. He smiled as Esther fumbled with making a shadow dog, and Draco reached over to help her out with the mouth of the animal.

 

Harry slowly closed the door behind him. May as well leave the two of them to have a little bit of fun.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Esther was sitting in the guest chair, reading a book about a boy and a dragon. It had pop up pictures that made her eyes widen. They were beautiful, and some of them made her laugh.

 

Harry entered the office, carrying two cups of coffee.

 

“They’re from a cafe not too far from here,” Harry said, handing one to Draco, “I don’t like the coffee here.”

 

“I’ll pay you back for it later,” Draco said, pulling off the lid and inspecting the contents of the cup, “you remembered how I take my coffee.”

 

“I’m good with that sort of thing,” Harry said, his face turning red, feeling slightly embarrassed.

 

They sat there for a while, sipping their coffees and just talking about stuff, like Hogwarts, which professors were still there and what not. If there were any more classes. Apparently Hagrid’s magical creatures’ class had become permanent.

 

Eventually, they turned to look as Esther and the young girl had fallen asleep. Draped across two of the vinyl guest chairs, looking peaceful.

 

“So you got permission for her to stay here?” Draco asked finally.

 

Harry nodded, “she was fine with it, as long as I pay for the treatment.”

 

“I’ll pay,” Draco said, “you don’t have to.”

 

“Draco, I have plenty of money to pay for her treatment,” Harry said, “you’re not the only rich one you know.”

 

“I’ll do you halves,” Draco said.

 

“You’ve obviously come to care for her,” Harry said, laughing.

 

“She’s a sweetheart to be honest,” Draco muttered, tapping the top of his empty coffee cup, “I’ll do anything to help, and I don’t want to leave you in some sort of financial debt.”

 

“Fine,” Harry said, “you can pay half. But it literally has to be half, and if the amount cannot possibly be put in half, I will pay the full amount.”

 

Draco gave him a curious look, “those are some strange terms Potter.”

 

“What happened to first name basis Draco?” Harry retorted.

 

“My apologies. _Harry_.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “so how much is this treatment likely to cost?”

 

Draco shrugged, “I can’t really tell you an estimate. We’ll have to wait and see.”

 

Esther gave a little snore and shifted her position, making the men chuckle. She didn’t wake up, despite all of the conversation and chuckling.

 

Draco cleared his throat, “I’ll put her in a private room. At least let me pay for that.”

 

Harry nodded, “okay.”

 

Draco stood up and made a movement with his hand; lifted Esther off of the chairs, Harry rushed over to the office door, unfinished coffee still in hand, as he opened it and watched as Esther floated outside of the room.

 

“Only thing of wandless magic I’m able to do,” Draco said, “though, it does come in handy.”

 

They walked down the hall, and turned right, where all the private rooms were. The area was basically deserted. Though Harry could hear one nurse telling off a patient for throwing their food against the wall in a fit of rage.

 

“You deal with that type of stuff often?” Harry asked.

 

“Not really, there’s only one guy that really gets on my nerves,” Draco said, “Wilfred is his name. He keeps coming in with boils and burns and all sort of things on his genitals, because he uses unpractised, unofficial spells just to get himself off and majority of them backfire on him.”

 

Harry choked, trying not to laugh.

 

“It’s okay,” Draco said, “even after treating him for the seven billionth time this year, even I can admit it’s kind of funny.”

 

Draco turned into another room, which had the door open. There was a single bed in the room with white sheets and blankets all ready to go. There was a large window, and a radio in the corner. There were pictures all over the room, painting that children had made over the years.

 

“This is strictly one of the children’s private rooms,” Draco said, floating Esther’s sleeping body over to the bed and lightly placing her on top of it, “frankly, I hate the fact that it even exists.”

 

“Why all the drawings?” Harry asked.

 

“We think its better that the kids have something to look at. They’re mainly drawn and painted by past patients.”

 

Harry swallowed harshly, “did all of them live?”

 

Draco frowned, “unfortunately, no.”

 

They both tucked Esther into the bed; Draco muttered something about getting a nurse to help with the other equipment and walked out of the room. Harry walked outside and grabbed a chair before sitting down beside the bed and watching Esther, who was still asleep, but looked as if she was on the verge of waking up.

 

Harry didn’t know what to do other than sit there and wait and explain to Esther what was going to happen.

 

So he waited.


	9. Custody

Healing

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 **Harry walked through** the front door of the orphanage, looking around him, not feeling the need to hide his disgust as he looked around. The place was just getting worse and worse as the months went by. There was mould growing on the ceiling, spreading across like wild fire.

 

He walked off to the left. He walked past a small dining hall where two children who looked identical were drinking soup out of chipped bowls, their silverware untouched. He knocked on a door at the far end of the hall and waited.

 

Ms Lithgow opened the door, her liver spotted nose poking out before the rest of her could make it through the door.

 

“Yes?” she asked, sounding the most polite she had ever been towards Harry.

 

“I believe you wanted updates on Esther,” Harry said in a clipped tone, “I came here to tell you that she will no longer be in your custody.”

 

Ms Lithgow frowned, “I hardly think you have the authority to change the custody of the child.”

 

Harry smirked, “no, but a judge has,” he shoved his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out an envelope, “I think you’ll find that everything has been decided in a professional manner.”

 

“I wasn’t even present,” Ms Lithgow said, opening the envelope and scanning the contents of the paperwork in front of her, flicking through the sheets as if hoping to find some sort of loophole.

 

“I know,” Harry said, “but I said that you’d been sent a letter, asking for you to appear in court,” he pointed to the woman’s desk, “in fact, that white envelope on the top is from the judge I spoke to.”

 

Ms Lithgow made a growling noise in her throat that wasn’t unheard by Harry. She threw the paperwork at the man’s chest, however, he did not flinch.

 

“Who’s custody is she in now then!?” she asked, sounding livid.

 

“Mine,” Harry said, “and if you even try to get my custody removed, I will have this orphanage destroyed.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Esther lay in bed, tired, but unable to sleep. There was a nice lady next to her bed, stroking her hand tenderly, soothing her enough to at least feel drowsy. She knew the ladies name was Hermione, and that she one day planned on being an author.

 

“Are you going to write children’s books?” Esther asked her, turning her head to look at Hermione.

 

Hermione shrugged, “maybe one day,” she said, “but right now, I’m working on a young adult novel.”

 

“What’s it about?”

 

“It’s about a young girl named Aria,” Hermione said, “she lives in a small town and wants to be something a lot bigger than what she is...”

 

“Sounds like you,” Harry said, walking into the hospital room, carrying Teddy in his hands. He held it out to Esther, who grabbed it and tucked it into bed with her.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’ve been meaning to re-write it so it doesn’t sound like me.”

 

Esther coughed and held her teddy bear tightly to her chest, “if there was a book with you in it, I’d read it,” she muttered, her eyes drooping slowly as exhaustion caught up with her.

 

Hermione dropped the girls hand slowly and placed it at her side on the bed, before standing up and giving Harry a small smile.

 

“I need to go back home, I have an interview with a publisher at two,” she said, “I’ll meet you at home?”

 

Harry nodded, and watched as Hermione walked out of the room. Harry sighed and looked back down at Esther, who looked even more small and fragile in the hospital bed than she had ever. It was heart-breaking to watch as her small chest raised and fell with slight difficulty, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away.

 

It was obvious to him that Esther didn’t have much time left. Apparently, she was only getting worse, despite her treatment and the tumour was way too large for it to be removed without some form of complication later on in life.

 

There was a knock on the door frame and Harry turned to look at Draco, who was still wearing his uniform, but holding two portable cups of what smelled life coffee.

 

“I’m on my break,” Draco said, giving Harry his coffee and grabbing the chair that Hermione had previously sat on and dragging it next to Harry’s before sitting down, “I thought you could use some form of company.”

 

“Hermione just left,” Harry muttered before taking a sip.

 

“I know,” Draco said, spinning his cup in his hands, “that’s why I came in.”

 

They sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, both watching Esther as she slept. Harry had to admit that having someone else in the room with him made everything a little more comfortable and bearable.

 

They talked about light topics, something to take the edge off of the situation at hand; Quidditch, books and the funnier stories about some of Draco’s previous patients, specifically the infamous Wilfred.

 

“Lunch break is over,” Draco muttered, looking at his watch, almost angrily. He stood up and threw the cup in the bin near doorway, getting it in on the first try. Harry stood up, “I should probably get going anyway,” he said, “I don’t want to leave her alone but I have a bunch of paperwork I have to sign.”

 

“What’s it for?” Draco asked.

 

Harry smirked, “I want to take that horrible orphanage down, once and for all.”

 

“I’ve never actually been to the orphanage,” Draco sounded wary, “is it really that bad.”

 

“Even worse,” Harry scoffed.

 

 

\--

 

A/N:

 

I’m sorry this chapter is horrible and short but I shall make it up to you with the next chapter which I will be uploading a lot sooner than I did with this chapter. But a lot of stuff happened recently, like my birthday, and I got a lot of books and just, yeah. Sorry, I love you all.


	10. Mistletoe

Healing

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

 **It was getting closer** to Christmas, and all the while Esther’s health was going up and down. Hermione had already set up a tiny little tree in Esther’s room, to give the room are more cheerful glow, and stuck mistletoe to the top of the doorframe.

 

But that wasn’t the only place in St Mungos’ that had mistletoe. Majority of the wards had mistletoe running up and down the halls of the place, much to Draco’s displeasure.

 

“Come on,” Draco muttered, tapping his feet impatiently as an old couple pecked each other on the lips sweetly, “I haven’t got all day.”

 

They started slowly shuffling forwards, Draco trying not to show too much irritation. They were a sweet couple; in fact, he had treated the female regularly after a memory charm had erased half of her memory. Draco was still trying to convince her that she was eighty two and not thirty nine.

 

Draco eventually slipped passed the elderly couple and went to Esther’s hospital room, bumping into Harry on the way.

 

“Morning Harry,” Draco said tiredly.

 

“Morning,” Harry said, sounding equally as tired.

 

“Bad night?” Draco asked.

 

“Horrible,” he answered. The both looked up when they heard a pair of hands clapping.

 

Esther was looking at the two of them lodged in the doorway, beaming at the two of them. For the first time in a while, she was feeling energetic enough to be sitting up in her hospital bed, and she had held down the food the nurse had gotten for her. But other than that, she still had constant headaches and random waves of nausea.

 

“You two have to kiss now!” Esther exclaimed, still clapping her hands excitedly, “you’re both under the mistletoe!”

 

Harry and Draco both looked up at the same time, flabbergasted. Ignoring Hermione’s giggles, they both tried to run through the doorway at the same time. Hermione’s giggles were soon joined by Esther, as both stumbled and landed on the floor in a heap.

 

Harry got up and straightened his jacket, “uhh,” he looked at Draco, who was just straightening up himself and walking towards the end of the bed, his face red. Harry followed suit, sitting down on a chair next to Hermione’s.

 

“So,” Draco said before clearing his throat, “how are you feeling today Esther?”

 

Esther bit her lip, “the headache is getting worse...and I threw up last night.”

 

Draco stifled a groan, trying not to let on his disappointment, though he was sure it was recognisable on his face. Esther’s progress had been skyrocketing, but now, Draco was having doubts about the girls ‘miraculous’ recovery.

 

There was still hope...just very minimal.

 

“Why can you just perform surgery on me?” Esther asked.

 

“They need to shrink the tumour first,” Hermione answered before Draco could, making the blonde roll his eyes, “they’re trying to shrink the tumour first with the spells they put on you every week, so they can operate with...” Hermione trailed off, not knowing what to say.

 

“With a higher success rate,” Draco finished for her. There was no point sugar-coating it for her.

 

She nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking away from them all.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“The scan says she is getting worse,” Draco said, looking at Hermione and Harry. Harry’s face fell and Hermione looked over to Esther, who was lying asleep in the bed, looking even more tiny and vulnerable than before, “sometimes these type of illnesses will look better and then...”

 

“Kill,” Harry muttered, sounding disgruntled.

 

“There’s not much else I can do,” Draco said, “she’s...basically the walking dead here Harry, I can’t do anything else to stop it. None of the spells are making the tumour smaller and it’s too big to remove without causing some form of permanent damage later on in life.”

 

Harry nodded, “I know.”

 

He turned to look at little Esther, who he still didn’t know all that much about. He had assumed that the tumour had led to her depression, but for all he knew it could have been a billion other things.

 

“Do you know anything about her family?” Harry asked suddenly, looking at the files in Draco’s hands, “is there anything in those files that gives us any detail about her family?”

 

Draco shrugged, “I was never given permission to read that part of the file.”

 

Harry snatched the file off of him and flipped through the pages hastily, until he reached the page about where she had come from; before the orphanage had gotten custody of her.

 

Harry read the names of the parents and felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

 

“Um...Draco?” Harry turned around the look at the blonde who had been standing behind him the whole time. They were almost nose to nose, breathing the same small amount of air. But Harry blinked a few times; now was not the time to focus on the close proximity, “why were you not given permission to view this part of the file?” Harry asked.

 

Draco shrugged, stepping back a little, his face red, “uhh...because it was private,” Draco answered.

 

Harry turned around and looked back at the names, the first one didn’t matter to him, but the second one did. He read it over three, four times before handing the file to Draco for him to read.

 

Draco’s eyes scanned the page, Harry saw them widen as Draco came across the name that Harry had stumbled upon.

 

“Tom Riddle.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry sat next to Esther’s bed. The girl was sipping water from a straw and looking around at the pretty pictures on the walls. Harry waited patiently for the girl to finish drinking, reading over her file again. He couldn’t believe he’d never been told it before. The orphanage files didn’t carry this information and Ms Lithgow hadn’t mentioned it.

 

Then again, how could she possibly know that Tom Riddle had once been a crazy megalomaniac hell-bent on taking over the world?

 

Esther poked Harry’s shoulder softly, causing Harry to look up and smile softly at her.

 

“All done?” Harry asked.

 

Esther nodded.

 

He opened the file again, leaving it open to the page where his name stood out against all the other information.

 

“What can you tell me about your father?”

 

Esther shrugged, “he liked books...” she trailed off, looking away.

 

Harry tried to sound patient, “surely there’s more.”

 

Esther bit her lip, “you’d think I’m mad,” she muttered, looking down into her lap.

 

Harry laughed despite himself, “you’re currently in a hospital, surrounded by a bunch of grown men and women swishing sticks around to perform magic,” he said, “how much madder can this situation get?”

 

Esther smiled despite herself.

 

“So?” Harry asked, “Anything else you can tell me about him?”

 

Esther nodded, “well...there were times where he looked normal...” she took a deep breath, smiling again as Harry nodded at her, encouraging her to go on, “but there were other times where he almost looked like a-a snake...”

 

Harry nodded, definitely was Voldemort then.

 

“He had a wand like yours,” she said, “and he used to show me magic, but, it wasn’t nice magic...it was scary magic...and sometimes it caused me pain...he used to tell me I’d be a fantastic warrior when I grew up. And that I’d be able to join his special group and help protect daddy against an evil boy.”

 

Harry swallowed the bile in his throat. He had hated what Voldemort had done to manipulate so many adults; but a child; and his _own_ child at that?

 

“But then mummy died,” she said, “and daddy disappeared.”

 

Harry frowned, “you know he didn’t die?”

 

Esther nodded, “he was killed by the evil boy,” she sighed, “but if he killed daddy he couldn’t have been too evil...because daddy hurt me...”

 

Harry smiled morosely. He wouldn’t tell her that he had killed her father. Sometimes, people may be grateful for something, but once they meet the person who did it, they feel a completely different emotion. Plus, she didn’t want Esther to no longer trust him when he was getting some sort of progress out of her.

 

Harry stifled an ill-humoured laugh as he realised, he had finally gotten the girl to crack, just as her life was slipping between her fragile, thin fingers.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry stood in the doorway. He was tired and was going to head home soon. But knowing Esther’s fate, he didn’t want to leave her alone, even for a second, just in case it was her last. He had grown quite attached to the girl, within the short span of time they had gotten to know each other, and he felt their bond had grown stronger, due to their relations to Voldemort. How he was the evil boy, and how she was the daughter no one ever knew existed.

 

He felt someone step behind him and he turned his head slightly. Draco stood there, looking at the little girl in the bed; his gaze already mournful.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her Harry,” he muttered quietly, as to not wake Esther up. Even so, she muttered something in her sleep and shifted her legs a little, then went back to being still; her chest rising up and falling down slowly.

 

“Its fine,” Harry looked down at the floor, “you did the best you could; that’s all that matters.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, “that’s what you say when a kid hands in shitty report card to their parents. Not when someone couldn’t save the life of someone you cared about.”

 

Harry snorted, “Well, I can’t really get mad about it, can I?”

 

“If you wanted to look like a total dick, you could.”

 

There was a small rustle of sheets and a tiny groan, Harry and Draco looked up to see Esther sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

 

“You’re both under the mistletoe again,” she mumbled, still looking drowsy.

 

Harry smiled, “not everyone has to kiss under the mistletoe.”

 

Esther pouted.

 

Harry jumped when he felt warm lips press against his cheek, Esther giggled happily and lay back in bed.

 

“See, Draco understands the rules!”

 

Harry turned around, he knew his face was red just by the heat radiating off it. Draco was smirking down at him.

 

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Draco said, turning around and walking off, a slight bounce in his step as he did so.

 

“Uh,” Harry stammered, “Merry Christmas...” he turned back to look at Esther, who was smirking just like Draco had before; like she had finally achieved something.

 

“You shut up,” Harry said playfully, closing the door slowly, “goodnight Esther.”

 

“Goodnight,” she said cheerfully, pulling the bed covers up to her chin as Harry closed the door, leaving only a small amount of light from the glass window illuminate her hospital room.


	11. Esther's Eve

Healing

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 **It was on** Christmas Eve that Esther could no longer hold on. At five in the morning, she passed away, and Harry heard someone banging on the door of his and Hermione’s apartment.

 

He groaned, got up, and while scratching his head opened the door, to see an equally dishevelled Draco standing there, panting slightly.

 

“I just-,” he breathed in deeply and swallowed harshly before continuing on, “Esther’s...she’s...”

 

Harry felt his eyes burn, “she’s gone.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry sat in Draco’s apartment, sipping from a small teacup that he knew was probably more expensive than this entire apartment, knowing Draco’s parents standard of living. His hands were shaking slightly and he was breathing a little harsher than normal, but other than that, he was relatively fine.

 

Draco sat across from him, sitting in an armchair made of black leather. Harry was sitting in a chair that was basically the exact same build, except his had a few more added pillows for his comfort.

 

“You get really emotional about this type of thing, don’t you,” Draco muttered, placing his tea cup on the coffee table between them. Harry gave a small laugh, which sounded more like a bird squawk. He nodded his head and cleared his throat, his tea cup still shaking lightly in his hands, “yeah,” he muttered, “a little bit.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Draco said. Harry looked up at the blonde, and saw nothing but sincerity in his gaze. He gave him a small smile, “if anything, it’s mine,” he took a sip of his tea and sighed, “I should have tried harder.”

 

Harry shook his head, “you couldn’t have,” he said, “you were doing the best you could with a really difficult situation,” he sighed, “I just wish I had known about her childhood a bit more,” he was starting to sound angry, “know a little bit more about her parents, about Voldemort specifically. I would have loved to have seen her go off to Hogwarts! To have become a brilliant witch, but now, she’s nothing,” he threw his head back against the arm chair, his eyes brimming with tears; “she’s nothing. She’s gone.”

 

He felt a hand settle on his thigh and he looked down. He’d never noticed that Draco wasn’t exactly as pale as he used to be. His skin used to be alabaster, and at times made the boy look sickly. But the man sitting in front of him had a healthy tan look on his skin, not too tan, just perfect, and his hair wasn’t slicked back, which Harry used to think looked silly on a twelve year old and looked pretentious on a sixteen year old. His hair was wavy, but not uncontrollable like Harry’s hair still was.

 

He was quite attractive, Harry observed, and those grey eyes didn’t look as dead as they had before. Like no matter what he did, his life was going to end tragically. That he was destined to fail.

 

Harry mentally shook his head, now was not the time to acknowledge the attractiveness of his next door neighbour, aka Draco Malfoy. Someone he had felt close to had died today, and it was even worse that she had been so young.

 

He went back to focusing on Draco who was talking about how just because someone is gone; it doesn’t mean that they’re nothing.

 

“I bet you say that to a lot of families,” Harry muttered.

 

Draco nodded, “unfortunately, yes. Had to say it to a woman last week; she lost her fifteen year old son. He’d been hit with Sectumsempra, and had lost a lot of blood when he’d arrived. He’d lost too much for the blood replenishing potions to be even remotely effective.”

 

“So, they were a Hogwarts student then?”

 

“Yes, a Hufflepuff fifth year,” Draco answered, standing up, “more tea?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

As Draco went to make more tea for the both of them, Harry rambled on about other cases of his that had ended in death. There was Brad, who had killed himself, April who had died in a car accident on her way to the supermarket, and Haley. Nobody knew what happened to Haley.

 

“It looks like in our lines of work, we both have to deal with our fair share of death,” Draco said solemnly, handing Harry his fresh cup of tea, he muttered a tired sounding thanks and took a sip, burning his tongue slightly as he did so.

 

“You’d think being a therapist; I’d be able to prevent some of it,” Harry muttered, “at least the suicides, and some of the murders that would happen if someone snapped.”

 

Draco smiled, “you can’t save everyone. You couldn’t save everyone back when you were seventeen, and you can’t save everyone now. It’s life.”

 

“But I feel an obligation to!” Harry exclaimed, “That’s why I’m doing this for a living, I feel the need to help people; I need to otherwise my life feels like it isn’t worth anything-.”

 

During the time he was ranting, Draco had moved forward slightly and was now cupping the side of his face. Harry stopped ranting and his eyes widened, then slowly, a tear rolled down the other side of his face. He was tired. He was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, he was tired of feeling like he had to be the hero, but if not him; who?

 

Draco’s head titled to the side slightly, and slowly his face began to move closer. Harry closed his eyes as he felt warm, soft lips gently press against his own. He sighed, feeling slightly more relaxed. It could have been just because Draco liked him, or because Draco wanted to make Harry shut up; either way, the warm kiss that was now soothing him was more than welcome.

 

Draco sat back and looked Harry in the eyes, he smiled again, this time seeming more genuine than a smile meant to calm Harry down, or encourage him to feel happier. His eyes were shining, not with tears, but with a certain amount of happiness, the happiness you achieve when you succeed.

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for the last few weeks,” Draco admitted, his face turning slightly red with embarrassment from the admission.

 

Harry remembered all the times that Esther had pointed out that he and Draco were standing under the mistletoe, how their faces had turned red, how they had been embarrassed, probably because they were both thinking the same thing; they wished they could kiss the other; but both afraid that if they even tried, they’d be hexed within an inch of their life and without a moment’s hesitation as well.

 

“What does this make us?” Harry asked.

 

“I think we should wait until we’ve both had some more sleep,” Draco muttered, sounding slightly embarrassed, “I already feel as if I’ve taken advantage of you...I think we should wait until we’re both in our right minds to make some sort of decision as to whether or not it goes further.”

 

Harry nodded, he picked up his tea and took a sip, making a face when he realised that it was now cold.

 

“Come on,” Draco said, standing up and rubbing his sweaty palms against his work pants, “I’ll walk with you, the very short walk, to your apartment,” Draco said with a nervous laugh.

 

Harry shook his head, “I don’t really want to go waking up Hermione,” he muttered, “umm...”

 

Draco nodded, “you can take my bed if you like,” he pointed towards the open doorway on their right, “I can sleep on one of these,” he made a motion towards the chairs, “I’ll just put a spell on them tonight.”

 

“I was actually wondering...” Harry looked anywhere but at Draco, choosing a scuff mark on the wooden floor. He could feel his face going red, and cursed how easy it was for him to get so red faced and embarrassed.

 

Draco seemed to click on, however, saving Harry from actually saying the words.

 

“Sure,” Draco said, “but don’t punch me in the balls when you wake up if you wake up and think that this was all a mistake.”

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, “I won’t,” he began walking towards Draco’s room, Draco trailing behind him.


	12. Coffee

Healing

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

 **Harry woke up** in the later hours of Christmas Eve morning, feeling groggy and gross. He’d slept well and didn’t feel physically tired, but he still felt emotionally exhausted from earlier before.

 

He peeled the duvet off of his body and walked into the living/dining room he’d talked to Draco in before. It had been nice to talk to him on a level where Harry didn’t feel like Draco wasn’t sneering or mocking him in his mind, with every sentence he uttered. But the circumstances had been horrible.

 

“Morning,” Draco muttered from the kitchen, “tea or coffee?” he asked.

 

“Coffee,” Harry muttered, sitting down in the chair he had last night, curling up slightly, not really taking notice of what he was doing, “please,” he added.

 

Harry would normally feel awkward in situations such as this, admittedly, he was a little; but not as much as he normally would be. With the events of last night he felt closer to Draco.

 

Especially seeing as the man had kissed him.

 

Harry bit his lip, remembering how _good_ it had been. It was the distant light in a really dark time. It had done something good to Harry, in the end. But did he want more of it? That was the difficult question. There had been moments, naturally, where he had felt alone. Like he needed someone to hold, or someone to hold him, but he’d pushed through it with nothing more than a shrug. Sometimes, he’d just talk to Hermione and he’d feel okay again. But there was nothing that actually beat feeling loved.

 

Harry shook his head, he was thinking way too much into it.

 

“You alright?”

 

Harry looked up, Draco was placing his coffee on the bedside table, with a worried frown. Harry shrugged and smiled, uncomfortable with how terribly forced it felt.

 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, trying to sound, not necessary happy, but not confused and sad.

 

Draco sat down across from him, looking at him curiously. It took him a minute to finally say what he was thinking.

 

“I guess you think it was a mistake?” Drack asked, looking straight at Harry. Harry shook his head, but Draco continued on, “I understand why you’d think it was,” he said, “we used to be enemies. But I guess I’d hoped you moved past it-.”

 

“I have!” Harry cut him off, he shifted in his spot, but he was still curled up in the chair, like he owned the piece of leather bound furniture, “I wasn’t thinking that it was a mistake,” Harry looked away. He wasn’t able to look at people and be honest with them about things such as this, like Draco was. Harry guessed it didn’t really drive his point home, “I was just wondering if I want it to continue; and go further.”

 

“Why are you hesitant about it?” Draco asked, no longer sounding all that peeved.

 

Harry sighed, “I feel like I’m not really loving or caring in relationships,” he admitted, “but I always expect love from the other person.”

 

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. Harry was worried, by saying that, he’d completely turned Draco off of the idea. But then he leaned forward and rested his hand against Harry’s pyjama clad thigh and gave him a soft smile that Harry couldn’t really read, “we’ll figure it out,” he said, “but until then...” he shrugged, “we need breakfast and I don’t have food at the moment, so I suggest we go out and get a bite to eat.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Hermione woke up that morning, worried that Harry wasn’t home. That was until she found the note on the bench;

 

_Hermione,_

_If you wake up, I’m at Draco’s._

Hermione rolled her eyes, and folded the note back in half making her way towards the door when she heard voices in the hall.

 

“You sure they won’t be closed?” that was Harry’s voice.

 

“They’re always open, even on Christmas Day,” Draco’s voice, “in fact, they’ll be getting more business because it’s Christmas Eve and some places close because the workers want to set up.”

 

Hermione opened the door and called to them just as they were starting to walk down the stairs, “where are you two going?!”

 

Harry and Draco looked back towards the apartment door, looking slightly alarmed, “uh...” Harry’s faced turned a bright red, causing Draco to laugh.

 

“For breakfast,” Draco said, “I have no food in my apartment at the moment; want to come along?”

 

Harry silently cursed Draco.

 

Hermione nodded and walked back into the apartment. She was back in seconds, fully dressed with her purse hanging from her shoulder.

 

“You dress a lot faster than most women Granger,” Draco said with a smirk.

 

Hermione raised her brow, looking a little peeved, “I wouldn’t repeat that to anyone,” she said, “someone might hit you; or hex you.”

 

\--

 

Sorry for the short chapter, I’m kind of stuck here. I have my plans, but how does one write it out?

 

Anyways, do whatever you guys do :’) review, kudos, bookmark whatever; I’m still not used to this website to be honest

 

-          Teagan/Isaac.


	13. Curt and Sons

Healing

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

 **In an attempt** to feel normal again, after the tragedy that had happened, Harry kissed Draco a lot. He kissed him in Draco’s apartment, he kissed him out in the hall before he walked into his own apartment, and he kissed him when he just didn’t feel all that good.

 

They were dating.

 

And that was something to genuinely be happy about.

 

Esther’s funeral had been lonely. She hadn’t touched as many lives as Harry had hoped she would have. Her cousin Bethany had turned up, an aunt and an uncle, Ms Lithgow, scowling the whole time, the little mute boy in her arms, clawing at one in an attempt to get to Harry, and two little girls named Sophie and Amelia, who were supposedly the closest things Esther had ever had to best friends at the orphanage.

 

Hermione and Draco had of course been with him for the funeral.

 

“I can’t sleep,” Harry said, taking a sip of the tenth cup of coffee he’d had that day, his body was shaking and his eyes were wide, “I can’t sleep knowing that orphanage still fucking exists!” he exclaimed, talking fast as he did so.

 

“You need to calm down,” Hermione said, she suddenly snatched the coffee off of Harry, he went to say something but Hermione sent him a glare. After a minute, her face smoothed out again, looking a little worried, “we’ll do something soon,” she said empathetically, “we’ll try and bring that horrible place down.”

 

Harry nodded and let Hermione drag him off to bed. He stayed up for the rest of the night, reading.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry walked into work the next day. Curt & Sons; majority of the workers there just called the place ‘curtains.’

 

The offices were tiny and cramped in the sector he was going towards; child protection and welfare. He went up to the front desk. A woman with a green blouse and red lipstick was sitting at the desk, typing at her computer, pulling open files every ten seconds and talking into a microphone and listening to someone else talk to her through an earpiece.

 

She looked up at Harry and gave him a small smile, before saying to the person on the other end of the call that she would have to put them on hold. Harry could hear the person cursing through the earpiece, before she set it down upon her desk and pressed hold. Classical music played through the speaker, which was admittedly a lot better than hearing outrageous swearing.

 

“Hello Mr Potter,” she said kindly. She’d always been fond of Harry, apparently; probably because he was the only one that was actually nice to her.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, “I was wondering whether I could speak to someone, specifically Ryan,” he said, “if he’s not busy-.”

 

“He’s not!” she exclaimed, “He’s in his office just scrolling on his computer, nothing else. I’ll buzz him; tell him that you’re on your way.”

 

Harry smiled, “alright, thank you.”

 

Harry walked towards the man’s office. His was a little bit bigger than everyone else’s, purely because he was the best in this section of Curt & Sons; also because he was the grandson of one of the “Sons” who had passed away several years ago.

 

He stepped in front of the door and was about to knock, when the door was flung open.

 

“Hello Harry,” Ryan said, “long time, no see!”

 

Ryan was only a couple years older than Harry. The first time Harry had been told to go and talk to him, had ended up with Harry making friends with the guy, which honestly had its helpful aspects.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said casually, “unfortunately, this isn’t a social call.”

 

Ryan frowned, “damn, well. Come on then,” he said, opening the door wide, “sit down. Let’s chat.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry went home that day with a smug grin on his face, which slightly alarmed Draco, until he heard what was going on.

 

“That’s fantastic news!” Draco said, “But what about all those children?”

 

“They’re going to get a bunch of people connected to a large orphanage somewhere on the other side of the state; they have a large waiting list,” Harry said, grinning over his tea cup, “some people have already jumped on the chance, so they’re going to bring in all the kids to meet the adults and see how everything goes.”

 

Draco beamed, “nice.”

 

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to do something about it though,” Harry said suddenly, “I should have done something earlier on.”

 

Draco shrugged, “sometimes, we all need a wake-up call Harry,” he said, “It just takes a long time to get it.”

 

“I still feel like I need to do something else,” Harry said, “I just don’t know what.”

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry had no idea how it had gotten this point, and he was pretty sure Draco didn’t know either. But all he knew was that alcohol had something to do with it.

 

He was lying on Draco Malfoy’s bed, shirtless. Draco Malfoy was on top of him; giving him soft, languid kisses which were making him melt.

 

Draco’s shirt was off and his jeans half undone. This was the farthest they have ever gone; the closest to sex they had ever reached, and despite his intoxicated state, Harry was enjoying every moment of it.

 

Draco shifted his mouth and began giving him tiny kisses on his neck, making Harry moan aloud and grip Draco’s hair in his clenched fist.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry lay there, panting breathlessly and looking at Draco. They stared at each other, slightly shocked by what had just happened.

 

“I can’t believe we just...” Draco trailed off.

 

Harry nodded slightly, “yeah,” he breathed out, “yeah,” he repeated, and then laughed.

 

They both started laughing, their stomachs painfully aching as each crack of laughter hit the air. It wasn’t awkward laughter, it was happy, comfortable. This wasn’t one of those awkward situations that ruined relationships. It was one of those moments that improved them and made them worthwhile.

 

Harry curled up next to Draco, who wrapped his arms around Harry the best way he could. He kissed Harry lightly on the nose and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of sex, sweat and just...Harry.

 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Draco asked.

 

“I need to go talk to Ms Lithgow,” Harry muttered tiredly, his own eyes closed as his head rested against Draco’s chest, “but it really shouldn’t take too long.”

 

Draco nodded, “I want to take you out,” Draco muttered, “to dinner or something; the most we’ve ever really done is go out for coffee and hang out here a lot.”

 

Harry smiled, “I’d like that.”


	14. Thomas

Healing

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

 

 **Harry knocked on** the orphanage door for what he hoped was the last time. He swore that the building had gotten mouldier and older looking during the time he hadn’t been around.

 

A worker with blonde hair opened the door. She looked young. Harry had never seen her before.

 

“Hello?” she asked, as if she was on the phone and she didn’t know or couldn’t see who was on the other side of the call. Harry tried to smile, but it turned out to look more like a grimace.

 

“I want to talk to Ms Lithgow,” he said, looking around behind the blonde to see if the older woman was lurking there, waiting.

 

“I’ll get her,” the blonde said with a nod. She closed the door in Harry’s face, making him roll his eyes. He heard a distant shout from within.

 

“Grandmother; someone is at the door!”

 

Harry scoffed, that made a little bit more sense.

 

The door opened again, and Ms Lithgow stood there, looking domineering in the door way. Her granddaughter was nowhere in sight.

 

“May I come in?” Harry asked, trying to sound polite. But the strong feeling the hex the crap out of her still remained from his previous visits.

 

 _Over confident therapist_ , _Pfft_ , Harry thought, as Ms Lithgow nodded and opened the door wide, letting Harry in. Harry didn’t miss the woman rolling her eyes as he walked past her and right into the front foyer.

 

Harry turned around as Ms Lithgow closed the door behind her. She stood in front of him, with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

 

“Your orphanage is being shut down,” Harry said smugly, copying Ms Lithgow’s movements and crossing his own arms in front of his chest, “your children here will be going on to a waiting list of loving people who want to be parents, who will take care of these children like you and your very few workers ever could.”

 

Ms Lithgow paled.

 

Harry continued to look smug.

 

“Who said you had a right?” Ms Lithgow said, sounding unnaturally nervous.

 

“Curt and Sons,” Harry said, “the children will be removed from your care, as soon as members from the welfare department come.”

 

Ms Lithgow gave a low growl and stormed off.

 

Harry heard a small cry from upstairs. Harry looked up through the railing, the little mute boy was there, clinging to the bars and reaching out with one of his arms. Harry made his way up the stairs and quickly picked the boy up, who stopped crying immediately and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, hugging him in a tiny iron grip, desperately; seeming like he would never let go.

 

Harry was half way down the stairs with the little boy in his arms, when he came up with an idea.

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Harry walked into Ms Lithgow’s office without knocking and instantly said, “I want the files on this little boy; now.”

 

“Why?” Ms Lithgow asked, grouchily.

 

“Because,” Harry said, “I know this orphanage is lousy, but I know for a fact you’ll at least have files on everyone that lives here; you’re not that incompetent.”

 

Ms Lithgow glared at him and turned around to the filing cabinets behind her. She motioned her hand around them and seemed to count the drawers in her mind, before ripping one open roughly. She flicked through the files and picked out one, practically throwing it at Harry.

 

Harry gave her a filthy look before picking up the file, the boy still in his arms, and placed the file on the desk. He opened it up and read through it.

 

“Thomas,” Harry turned to look at the mute boy, who gave him a tiny smile. Thomas hugged him tighter, looking comfortable at last.

 

Harry continued to read through the file, forgetting Ms Lithgow was sitting there, watching him as he did so. It was just Thomas and him, Thomas seeming to fall asleep in his arms as the minutes ticked past.

 

“I want to adopt him,” Harry said suddenly, looking back up from the file and looking back at the hook nosed old lady. Her jaw went slack.

 

“Y-you want to adopt him?” Ms Lithgow asked, “But...he’s damaged!”

 

“And I’m an over-confident therapist,” Harry said with a sneer, “I live for this sort of thing.”

 

Ms Lithgow didn’t say anything as she opened up a drawer on her desk and began digging around. She pulled out a slip of paperwork.

 

“An adoption on the last day of this place running,” Ms Lithgow said, “the irony hurts.”

 

Harry paid no attention to her as he placed Thomas down in a chair and continued to sign the paperwork.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

By three in the afternoon, all the kids had been taken and passed onto the other orphanage. They were to stay there a few days, before parents began to meet them; the waiting list now being shorter, seeing as they had more children available.

 

Ms Lithgow was charged with child abuse, whether she got arrested or hit with a nasty fine, Harry wasn’t sure. Harry had already left the scene with Thomas in his arms; for the sake of the young boy, he had decided to get a taxi.

 

Harry didn’t know what he was going to tell Hermione, or Draco. It had been a rash decision on his part, but he felt he had a special connection. He hadn’t seen the boy latch onto someone so quickly and without thought. He’d hate to know what would have happened to Thomas if he had left him to be collected with the other children.

 

He stopped outside the door of his apartment. He kind of hoped that Hermione wasn’t home, so he could break the news to her slowly, rather than just turning up with Thomas saying ‘hey, guess what?! I adopted a kid today; his name is Thomas, he’s selectively mute. The only time he does make a noise is when he cries,’ yeah, he didn’t think that would go down well.

 

He opened the door and was thankful to find that Hermione wasn’t there.

 

But Draco was.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

“Hermione just left-...Harry, who’s that?” Draco asked, his eyes going wide.

 

Harry bit his lip and set Thomas down. He walked towards the lounge room automatically, and sat on one of the couches.

 

“That’s...uh...” Harry sighed, “His name is Thomas.”

 

“And why do you have him?” Draco asked slowly.

 

“I may or may not have...” Harry looked down at his feet, “I adopted him.”

 

Harry looked up. Draco looked pale and kind of frozen to his seat. But then, he slowly nodded.

 

“I guess you have a good reason,” he looked over at Thomas, who was just sitting there, kicking his legs against the couch lightly. It was like he was trying not to listen, though, that was inevitable, “besides, he is pretty cute; he kind of looks like you.”

 

Harry smiled, this was better than he could have hoped for. He thought it would take Draco a while to come around to it, maybe even rock the boat on their relationship a little, but...considering the circumstances...

 

Draco had walked over towards little Thomas, who was looking up at Draco with apprehension in his eyes. Draco crouched down, looking at Thomas, making sure to make eye contact.

 

He held out his hand in a polite manner and smiled at the boy, “hello Thomas,” he said, “My name is Draco.”

 

Thomas smiled and shook Draco’s hand, a little overenthusiastically, but it was the most socially active Harry had ever seen him. However, Thomas didn’t say his name; he didn’t say anything at all.

 

 

 

(***)

 

 

 

Hermione was, needless to say, shocked when she came home. But Harry explained the situation to her, even admitting that he’d made a slight rash decision, but he was willing to go through with it.

 

Hermione seemed okay after the explanation.

 

“So, he’s the mute one,” Hermione said.

 

“ _Selectively_ mute,” Harry corrected, “yes.”

 

Hermione nodded slowly, “where is he going to sleep tonight?”

 

Harry had already come up with that, “he can take my bed; I’ll have the couch tonight.”

 

“You can come over to mine,” Draco said, standing in the kitchen. Harry felt his face heating up, remembering what they had done in Draco’s bed the night before.

 

“I might have to stay here though,” Harry said, ignoring the heat that was dripping down his face to his neck. He was sure his face was almost as red as a Weasley’s hair, “Thomas might need me.”

 

“I’m sure I could take of him for the night,” Hermione said, “he seems to like me enough.”

 

Harry pondered it for a while, “we’ll see,” was all he said, “But, I might need you to babysit for a few hours.”

 

Hermione frowned, “why?”

 

Harry turned back to look at Draco, and gave him a big smile, “I believe you’re supposed to be taking me out to dinner?”

 

Draco’s eyes widened, “I thought-.”

 

“You thought wrong,” Harry said, “you’re taking me out to dinner whether you like it or not.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry and Draco stumbled up the stairs back to their apartments, both a little drunk on wine. Once Harry got up the stairs, he giggled as he watched Draco trip over the top one slightly. He grabbed Draco’s hand and helped him get up; pulling him up to his feet he placed both his hands on either side of Draco’s face and kissed him eagerly.

 

Draco groaned when Harry pulled away, “can I have you for desert?” he asked.

 

Harry laughed loudly at the cheesy pick up line, but shook his head nonetheless, “I can’t,” he slurred, “I...I need to take care of Thomas- I can’t just adopt him then ditch him...it’s bad for...trust,” Harry shook his head, he was getting a little tired, the alcohol wasn’t helping, “and stuff.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and kissed him again. He could taste the wine on his lips; he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry. He never wanted to let go. He’d dated a few men before, hell, even dabbled a little in women but discovered it wasn’t really his taste. He knew; this relationship with Harry was the real deal. It was something he had wanted for a very long time.

 

He was sick of either one night stands or one month relationships, all because the other person got boring. But he knew; he’d never get bored of Harry. There was so much to discover, unlike the others, who were just planks of wood, overly attached to their pureblood mothers. Harry was his own person, and he had a story. The whole wizarding world knew half of it, but Draco wanted to hear the other half. He wanted to be a part of the other half, and not in a negative way like he used to be.

 

The kiss ended. Harry was red in the face, but looked happy. He gave Draco a quick peck, before grabbing his keys out the pocket of his trousers. He stood there for a good three minutes, attempting to unlock the apartment door.

 

Draco placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and shook his head, “why not just come over to mine?” Draco asked.

 

“Because, Thomas-.”

 

“I’m sure he’s asleep by now,” Draco muttered.

 

Harry sighed and nodded, besides, it would be comfier to sleep on a bed tonight.

 

 

(***)

 

 

Harry curled up next Draco and whispered a soft goodnight, and other cute little nothings, before falling asleep, his arms wrapped around Draco as he slept, no longer stressing about young Thomas.

 

Draco felt like he was the luckiest man in the world at that very moment.

 

He stroked Harry’s hair as the other man slept, which was a lot softer than he originally would have pictured it to be. Harry’s lips were slightly parted as he slept, small breaths coming out every so often. He looked so...innocent; relaxed. He didn’t look hard faced, like he’d once battled a war. He looked like a person who didn’t have a single worry in the world, and had never even come close to a real war.

 

Draco decided then and there, that the looks people had on their faces when they slept, really were deceiving.


	15. Epilogue: Five Months Later.

Epilogue: Five Months Later.

 

 

 **Thomas came running** towards Harry, his arms extended. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs and squished them tightly, “hello daddy!” he said, beaming up at Harry. Harry rustled his hair and gave him a small smile.

 

“Hey buddy; how was your day?” he asked, sounding tired.

 

Thomas shrugged, “bad and good,” he said in his little squeaky voice. Harry had had to re-teach some words to Thomas, once he’d started talking again. One of his ‘first words’ had been a cuss, thanks to Draco.

 

“Why bad?” Harry asked.

 

“I tripped over.”

 

“Why good?”

 

“I have a really cool plaster,” he said, pointing to his knee. It had little snitches on it, which fluttered around every time Thomas moved his leg.

 

Harry smiled and rustled Thomas’s hair, which still felt like a newborn baby’s hair. Though, Thomas hated it when it was pointed out to him. He would push out his lower lip and tell everyone he wasn’t a baby when he did so; nobody took him seriously; it was too cute.

 

“Where’s your father?” Harry asked Thomas, looking around the lounge area.

 

After a few months of being together, Thomas had started calling Draco ‘dad’ or ‘father’. He had wondered why he couldn’t call Draco his other daddy when him and Harry slept in the bed together, and sometimes kissed. Harry had tried to explain at first, but Draco and pushed forward and had even encouraged the boy to see Draco as another parent. Thomas had been overjoyed; he had two daddies.

 

“He’s in the lounge room with Auntie ‘Mione,” he said, racing towards the lounge room, Harry slowly walking behind him.

 

After Harry had adopted Thomas, Draco had asked him if he wanted to live with him. It wasn’t a drastic change, obviously, having lived next door to him. Hermione didn’t seem fussed; she was still close to friends at least.

 

Harry walked into the lounge-room, seeming to have interrupted a conversation. Hermione was sitting in the far corner, looking a little teary eyed, Draco on the other hand, was looking ecstatic.

 

“Hey,” he said, standing up hastily and walking over to Harry. He gave him a small peck on the lips, smiling as he did so.

 

“Did I interrupt something?” Harry asked.

 

Draco looked back at Hermione, who was trying her best to compose herself in a natural manor. She only got it half right, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on the couch, but her eyes still looked very wet.

 

Draco shook his head, “oh, no,” he said, rolling his eyes, “nothing important anyway.”

 

Harry shook his head fondly, “prat,” he muttered, sitting down where Draco had been sitting before.

 

Draco sat down next to him, “Gryffindork.”

 

“So, actually,” Draco looked at Hermione who was giving him a slight suspicious look, “I was thinking that we should all go out for dinner tonight.”

 

Hermione’s expression perked up. Harry cocked up a brow, “oh really?” he asked, “why?”

 

Draco shrugged, “I don’t feel like cooking, and when was the last time I took you out to dinner?” he asked.

 

“Last week,” Harry muttered.

 

“Alright, smart arse,” Draco rolled his eyes, “when was the last time I took you, Thomas and Hermione out to dinner?”

 

Thomas raised his hand as if he were in class. He jumped up and down and made tiny squawking noises.

 

“Yes Thomas?” Draco said, sounding amused.

 

“Never! Never ever,” Thomas answered.

 

Draco looked at Harry, as if to say _I told you so_.

 

“Alright, alright,” Harry said, “where are we going?” he asked.

 

“Oh,” Draco smirked, “you’ll see.”

 

 

(***)

 

 

It was the same restaurant that Draco had taken Harry to, the first time he’d taken him out to dinner. They got the same table, which had its own private room. While the owner wasn’t looking, Draco extended the table to seat two more people.

 

A waiter came by and took their orders. While everyone was distracted, Draco put his hand in his pocket and felt around for something. He found it; a felt covered jewellery box. He was afraid he was going to lose it. But it was still there. Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Their food came and they all dug in. Thomas had been sneaky and ordered himself a desert for dinner. Draco and Harry let it slide, however. It was too nice of a night; why ruin it?

 

It didn’t take them long to finish their meals, they all leaned back on their seats and relaxed. Thomas couldn’t even get through his sundae. Hermione said they’d take it back home with them; she put a charm on it to keep it from melting, which Thomas was thankful for.

 

Hermione and Harry were in the middle of a conversation when Draco decided to interrupt.

 

“Um, Hermione,” Draco bit his lip nervously. Hermione looked at him with a look that said, _what do you want_ , “do you mind holding that thought?” he asked. Her eyes widened, and she was about to say something when she clamped her mouth shut and nodded enthusiastically. Harry looked at both her and Draco with suspicion, but didn’t say a word.

 

He stood up awkwardly; he could feel his legs shaking and hoped, that for once in his life, they wouldn’t betray him. He then remembered he was supposed to get down on one knee for this sort of thing, so, that was definitely a relief. The worse that could happen is that he lost balance on his knee and face planted, possibly breaking his nose; not all that bad when you take a lot of the other options into perspective.

 

He got down on one knee and noticed Harry’s eyes widen. He turned his head to look at Hermione, who was giving him an encouraging look. He pulled the jewellery box out of his pocket and held it tightly before opening it. His hands were shaking so badly, he had a little bit of trouble with the lid of the box. But when he finally opened, it revealed a beautiful white gold ring with a line of diamond chips on the front.

 

Draco cleared his throat; then cleared it again.

 

“Harry,” he said, his voice coming out an octave or two higher than it usually would. He could feel his face slowly heating up and turning red from the embarrassment. While he was holding up the box with one hand, he rubbed his other sweaty palm on his pants. If his mother had been here, she would have reprimanded him.

 

“Harry,” he said again, he’d had a whole speech planned out, but all he could say was, “will you marry me?”

 

Harry beamed. Draco was convinced that his smile made the whole room brighter, and happier. He got down in front of Draco and kissed him softly, “yes,” he said, “of course I bloody will.”

 

Harry pulled Draco up and hugged him tightly, before Draco grabbed his left hand and stuck the ring on his wedding finger. He looked up to see Harry still smiling, “you’re tearing up Draco,” he said, looking a little amused.

 

“Shut up, Potter,” he said fondly, hugging his now fiancé again and kissing him softly.

 

Thomas was sitting in his chair, clapping loudly; Hermione was almost as teary eyed as Draco.

 

Harry and Draco both sat down, back in their spots; holding hands on the table and talking; all the while, the simple, yet beautiful, ring on Harry’s finger seeming to sparkle in the light of the room, obnoxiously reminding everyone that Harry Potter was now engaged, to Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's finished. 
> 
> I based this fic off of a fanfiction I wrote a few years ago, with Esther and a boy named Aaron. Esther was adopted by Harry in the end, and Harry was with Luna Lovegood; they had a baby son named Thomas. Then Luna died, and Harry adopted Aaron. Honestly; the fic was a mess. Then I tried to make Drarry happen in the sequel which just didn't work so I deleted it and started it all again. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and if you're going to miss me so much (I'm doubtful) you can check out my other fanfictions. I'm currently writing Whispers in the Dark - Drarry and Every Rose Has Its Thorn - Destiel. 
> 
> But I have plenty more fanfictions up my sleeve, that I may be posting very shortly. So stay tuned :)
> 
> \- Teagan/Isaac.


End file.
